by Kade Cook
All those who remained standing in Gabrian’s apartment agreed in unison. Orroryn approaches the couch. Dipping down, he slides his hands beneath her helpless form and cradles her securely within his arms. He inches out with the tips of his fingers and touches the cusp of the Veil, tugging at its edges knowingly. With a heavy heart, he pulls its Magik effortlessly around himself and his precious cargo then vanishes into the shadows.
Chapter Twelve
A Measure of Silence
UPON A LARGE amethyst-speckled boulder, Cimmerian, the Elder of the Derkaz Fellowship, sits quietly, staring down at the darkened patch of ground beneath him—a section of barren Earth that still to this day holds no life-sustaining qualities; not even the sun bothers to shine there. Deep in thought, still grieving the loss of his only daughter all those years ago, he opens his moistened eyes and returns to the present.
“Lady of Zephyr,” he solemnly announces—narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he discretely wipes the dampness blurring his vision before turning around to face his peer on her arrival. With the Elder of the Boragen Fellowship, Ethan Borne, behind her and her Raven guide at her side, Vaeda steps out from the bending air. The Raven takes to the sky then perches itself in the nearest tree in order to keep everyone in its sights. The bird rumbles a throaty caw as it voices its evident irritation with Ethan’s presence.
“Does he always have to act like that?” Ethan grumbles to Vaeda as he glares up at the Raven. She laughs at his annoyance with her friend then glances up at her guide, acknowledging his concern but silences him with a wave of her hand.
“You know what he is like when it comes to the Boragen—always on duty. Always letting me know when you are near.”
Shaking his head, Ethan rolls his eyes. “Maybe then he should learn how to tell the good from the bad.” Ethan turns his attention elsewhere, closing his eyes to concentrate. His grey Borrower aura surfaces around him and flickers as he sends out his essence to seek out energies of any unwanted listeners.
Noticing Ethan’s aura expanding around them, Cimmerian crosses his arms across his chest and watches him.
“What? You do not trust me, Ethan?” Cimmerian says with a sneer.
Ignoring Cimmerian’s comment for the moment, he continues his search. Once satisfied they are alone, Ethan pulls his aura back into itself, and with a disarming smile, he looks back at Cimmerian. “Not everything is about you, Cimmerian. Vaeda requested that we speak in private, and that is what I am trying to ensure.”
From within the Darkness of the encasing woods behind them, a loud snap silences their banter. Instinctively, Ethan’s aura flares out to determine if this interruption is friend or foe; his muscles tense in anticipation of treachery. Unable to detect any signs of who or what lies in wait, the tension grows. Then, from the Shadowy Veil, emerges a familiar muscular silhouette—a Guardian.
Vaeda’s face lights up at this unexpected arrival as she immediately recognizes his form. “Tynan, I did not know that you were going to be joining us.” Her voice wavers as she tries to hide the wildness of her pulse so as to not give away the excitement of seeing him. But looking directly into his eyes, she gasps at his raw exotic beauty that has always made her breath quicken. Her efforts are useless. The Schaeduwe have a reputation throughout the Realm of stealing hearts with just a glance, and she did not want to allow anyone to know how true it was. “We were expecting Orroryn.”
Stepping out of the shadows and into clear view, Tynan stands before them—larger than life, at attention, and as ever, on duty.
“Orroryn has asked me to step in on his behalf and to accompany you, Lady of Zephyr, as he is still otherwise engaged.” His words are warm and soothing. “I hope that is not overstepping any bounds.”
Vaeda shakes her head no, unable to catch her breath at the sight of him, and gleams in appreciation of his presence. She continues to gaze upon him in fear that he will disappear again if she dares look away.
Cimmerian clears his throat at the display.
“Would you two like to be alone?” he heckles the couple as he crosses his slender arms, tucking them tightly in front of his abdomen. He would much rather get on with the meeting and be rid of this unwanted exchange of words, not to mention the company.
Vaeda tears her eyes away from her muse, and her face grows with light traces of crimson just beneath her flesh. She quickly turns to face Cimmerian with an upheld commanding eye but a gentle grin, while Tynan stands with his shoulders back and chin held high, undaunted by the sarcastic remark. Ethan masks his amusement by covering his mouth with his hand, trying hard to hide his smirk.
“Of course not, do not be so snide,” she replies, tucking her hair behind her ear as she returns her attention to the task at hand. She glides forward a few feet closer to Cimmerian.
“I have asked you all here today to discuss the assistance that I required yesterday in the park.”
“You mean the cleanup job we had to do thanks to the wild Boragen youngling that is on the loose?” Cimmerian says in a haughty tone.
Ethan rolls his eyes at Cimmerian’s lack of diplomacy and tries to address the subject in a statelier manner. “How did this go unnoticed, especially by her parents? They must have had some indication that she was more than human.”
“We have kept an eye on her ever since she was brought to Sarapheane and Jarrison. Until recently, there was never any reason to believe otherwise,” Vaeda tries to explain credibly, joining her hands together loosely in front of her. She levels the sound of her voice—maintaining direct eye contact—not wanting to reveal any cracks in her little white lie.
“She is a danger to all of us.” Cimmerian huffs angrily. “She has displayed the characteristics of the Vampiric fever already. This must be dealt with immediately before she becomes a nightmare. I am quite certain that none of us here want to go down that road again.”
“It will not come to that, Cimmerian, I assure you,” Vaeda declares firmly. “We have made arrangements for her to stay with her parents. They can watch her and hopefully explain what may be happening to her in a more comfortable environment than we can provide for her.” Vaeda grimaces, remembering their earlier failed attempt to enlighten the child.
“If I can assist in any way, let me know,” Ethan interjects, stepping forward into the strained conversation. He brushes his hand lightly against her arm, extending his willingness to lend any invaluable experience that he has to offer. “The earlier they can reach her and help her to find control, the better. Ignorance of her powers can lead to a dark place very quickly, especially if she is a natural.”
Vaeda knows that both Ethan’s and Cimmerian’s concerns are valid, but she needs just a little more time to give Gabrian the chance to find herself before the other Elders of the Covenant of Shadows find her first. She sighs despairingly, pitying the girl and the hard task that lies before her.
“I agree with both of you. Regardless of what has happened, I implore you both to keep this incident quiet until we can diffuse the situation and have a chance to speak with the girl in a more rational manner. Hopefully, we can bring her to an understanding and an acceptance of who she is without causing any more unnecessary adversity.”
Ethan quickly agrees with Vaeda and gives her his word of silence while Cimmerian scornfully introduces Vaeda to the conditions of his agreement. “I will be silent for now but get her under control quickly or I will not hesitate to take this straight to the House and let them all know how much of a danger she is,” Cimmerian’s eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. His hand draws upward, pointing a long bony finger in her face, almost touching the end of her chin, as he growls out his warning. “I have no loyalties to the Boragen, especially one who is out of control.”
Vaeda understands his concerns and is grateful for his collaboration, even with his unsympathetic stipulations. “I appreciate your cooperation,” she says to Cimmerian, seeing the contempt in his eyes. “I will alert both of you if anything arises.”
Turning back to her silent Guardian, she smiles and releases Tynan of his duty, insisting that he return to his post at the Gate on the Shadow’s Edge. “Thank you, Tynan, I shall take my leave now. Please inform Orroryn and the Shadwells that I will see them momentarily.”
“Of course, my lady,” Tynan hums sweetly; his eyes meet hers respectfully then he sidles back toward the dark side of the brush and slips back into the shadows.
Vaeda inhales deeply and pretends that his retreat does not affect her. She turns back to face Ethan. “Shall we?” she asks her escort, pressing her palms forward in front of where they stand, creating a gap a foot’s width apart.
“Toran!” Vaeda whispers softly.
The air between her hands begins to twist and swirl, creating a whirlwind of energy from the air in front of her. The air begins to bend and bubble around itself, manifesting into a portal that will allow Ethan to return back to his private counsel office in town.
“After you,” Ethan says politely, but she hesitates.
“You go ahead, Ethan. I will be right behind you.”
Ethan nods then steps into the midst of the portal and disappears. Her Raven guide gurgles from above in appreciation of his departure. She turns to Cimmerian who wrinkles his nose at her.
“I know that you have much sorrow.” She inches forward, encroaching on his space. “Your memories must burn like fire in your heart, and I am sorry for that, but I need you to find it within yourself to have some compassion for this child. We have failed her as a society. It is up to us to try and make it right.”
Becoming agitated with Vaeda’s sympathy for him, he glares at her with cold, black eyes. “I shall do as you request, but I will also do what I must if you cannot contain this wild youngling. I will not have innocent blood on my hands,” he barks at Vaeda sternly, his eyes glistening with emotions refusing to be contained any longer. His hands rub at each other as if to cleanse themselves of their invisible stains. “Not again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, of course,” she says softly as sadness overcomes her, realizing how miserable Cimmerian must truly be. “Thank you, Cimmerian.” She reaches out and touches him gently on the arm then rushes back toward the swirling vortex of air that awaits her and waves to her Raven guide. He promptly descends from the trees to rest at her side and together they melt into the portal.
Chapter Thirteen
Out from Beneath
ATOP THE BEGOTTEN lifeless Earth that rests mere inches behind Cimmerian, a blackened mist—darkened with thick and poisonous toxins pulled from the netherworld—begins to ooze from the midst of the desolate void. Climbing and twisting upward, it writhes slowly, taking a form resembling a human. The cynical sound of laughter jars Cimmerian from his present state of mind, and he realizes that he is no longer alone.
“Hello, dear Cimmerian,” the creature hisses, its vaporous face sneering as Cimmerian revolves toward his unexpected company. “Long time no see!”
In disbelief, all Cimmerian can do is stare, his mouth gaped open. “Adrinn…but how could this be?” he stutters his words. Not because he speaks to an apparition but of whom it is. “You are supposed to be dead. She destroyed you, and we sent your body to rot in Erebus. This is not possible!”
Cimmerian’s shock quickly fades. His pale white face alters into a crimson glow while his nostrils flare as emotions change into anger. He feels the blood in his veins begin to boil with hatred, remembering with clarity the night he stood in this very spot and watched this thing destroy his only daughter. Her naive and desperate effort to save this fiend, managed to pull her into the depths of Darkness with him.
“You murderer!” he shrieks at Adrinn, raising his hands to strike him down. Cimmerian’s aura of deep violet begins to swirl and intensify as his pupils widen so large they swallow up all colour of his brown irises, becoming completely black. Great blackened spheres of energy emerge from the palms of his hands, and he immediately directs their focus toward the murky mirage of a man that stands before him. The energy orbs pass completely through Adrinn and sear the sides of the tree behind him. Cimmerian growls at his failed attempts and realizes that he must draw from deep within to conjure up the dark Magik needed to attack this monster.
Adrinn’s face is wiped clean of its smugness for the moment. He knows that Cimmerian holds the advantage and can seal him back into the Darkness, delaying his efforts.
“Wait, Cimmerian!” Adrinn shouts.
Cimmerian’s eyes blaze—filled with fire and lusting to destroy him once and for all.
“Wait for what, Vampire?” Cimmerian’s breath heaves in his chest, but he forces it to steady—attempting to maintain control over his enraged fury. His vision reddens with hatred and the violet hue hovering over the center of his palms sizzles with desire for revenge—awaiting the moment of onslaught. “What could you possibly have to say to me that would make me not want to kill you?”
“She is not dead!” he yelps at his adversary, conjuring up his own Magik.
The deep violet hue hovering around Cimmerian sparks brightly at the words. He falters only briefly, but his stance remains rigid as his eyes bore into the devil in his sights.
“What did you just say?”
“She is not dead,” Adrinn enunciates flatly as he wins the battle for Cimmerian’s attention.
Cimmerian temporarily halts his attack but remains guarded. The orbs dissipate, but his hands still hold the spark—the necessary energy in order to thrust Adrinn back into the depths of Darkness from where he has ascended.
“I do not know how you have managed to avoid being devoured by the Gargons, or how you have pulled yourself out of the depths of Erebus, but let me make something very clear to you—I have no pity for you, so choose your words wisely as they may be your last.”
Even with Cimmerian’s threats, Adrinn knows he has a slight upper hand. He tries to suppress his ever-growing delight of the situation, but as his sinister nature returns, so does his leery grin. He begins to chip away at Cimmerian’s rage so that he will not be enticed to send him back—at least not until he gets what he has returned for.
“She is safe,” Adrinn hums and tilts his hand from side to side, in resemblance to the balancing of a scale. “She is still surrounded by the wards you placed upon her right before she was dragged down into the Darkness.”
Cimmerian’s face twitches as he speaks which cues Adrinn to remember that he is still dealing with a ticking time bomb and he needs to be gentle with his words about her so called untimely demise.
“She is alive, but I fear very weak.”
“If it were not for you, she would not have needed the wards,” Cimmerian lashes out at Adrinn, his rage building again. “If it was not for you and your cunning ways, she would not have made herself so vulnerable to the Gargons’ Darkness.”
“She did that on her own accord, Cimmerian. I had nothing to do with that,” Adrinn argues, trying to reason with him. He quickly realizes that this is probably a dangerous and moot point.
“She was young and impressionable; you should have left her alone,” Cimmerian scolds Adrinn, pointing his finger at him. Feeling the pressure beneath his eyes building, he presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose and pinches it. Then lets his hand drop, sliding it down across the front of his face and rests it over his heart—clenching the cloth beneath at the pull of sadness creeping into his chest.
“We were both young, Cimmerian,” Adrinn reminds him.
Beginning to pace and trying to regain his composure, Cimmerian realizes that this may all be a convoluted lie that Adrinn is feeding him. But what if it is not? He would never forgive himself if he had a chance to save his daughter and did not take it.
“How do I get her out?” Cimmerian’s arms drop to his sides, hands trembling but no longer ignited.
A wide smile stretches boldly across Adrinn’s face. He raises a blurry likeness of a hand and scolds Cimmerian with his index finger in a condescending wag.
�
��Ah, ah, ah!” he taunts. “Not so quick. Now it is my turn to ask a few questions.”
Irritated by Adrinn’s sudden change in attitude, Cimmerian’s aura whips around him wildly, but he remains silent, gnawing the inside of his cheek.
“I overheard you conversing about a wild youngling earlier. Who is she?”
Cimmerian’s brow furrows at the request but holding no loyalties to the youngling, he does not feel any need to protect her. However, disclosing information about a potential Vampire to an actual existing one does not really give him a warm and fuzzy feeling either. He had promised Vaeda he would not disclose any information about her to the Covenant of Shadows, but she said nothing about the undead. Balancing the weight of his accordance with Vaeda against the profound possibility that he may someday save his daughter—even if it means conceding to the requests of the monster that he helped destroy—seems a clear, obvious choice to him.
“The youngling we spoke of was an infant that had been rescued from the aftermath of the night of your demise,” Cimmerian begins. “Thought to be human and orphaned, Cera gathered up the girl and gave her to Sarapheane and Jarrison Shadwell to care for. Up until recent events, she had shown no signs of being anything other than human.”
“So Cera found her?” Adrinn mumbles to himself and slithers aimlessly around the barren Earth in thought. “Hm.”
Cimmerian ceases with his reiteration of what he knows about the girl and begins to stare at the vaporish menace. He watches as the thing becomes oblivious to his presence—momentarily lost somewhere in thought—and wonders why in the realm this monster is so consumed with her story.
“What interest do you have in this girl?”
Adrinn halts his course and meets Cimmerian’s curious stare.
“You mentioned that she is wild and untrained. Is that correct?”